


the lonely

by theultimatenerd04



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: (sort of), Depressed Peter Parker, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Italian Peter Parker, Peter Parker Needs a Break, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, References to Depression, he can't actually speak Italian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27365632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theultimatenerd04/pseuds/theultimatenerd04
Summary: Peter didn't know when it started. The anxiety, the numbness, the loneliness. It all piled up, he had to have a breaking point somewhere. It all leads up to this point, lying in bed, watching the time tick up, thinking. Thinking is dangerous but it's not as if he can stop it. All Peter had to is hold on for the ride.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Michelle Jones, Peter Parker & Ned Leeds, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32





	the lonely

The red numbers of the clock created a hazy mist wafting through the darkened room. 2 am, the damning numbers read. It was 2 am and Peter had not slept a wink. He lay on his back, eyes staring at the ceiling yet taking in nothing. A tear trickled down his cheek and onto the sheets. It wasn’t the first and nor would it be the last. 

The ambient sound of New York traffic had faded to as low as it would get. It was the dead of the night and it felt like no one was awake other than Peter. The silent sound of loneliness circled around him, trapping him within its vice like grip. It was possessive, the loneliness was. Even at school surrounded by his friends, it hated letting Peter go. It followed him everywhere, knocking on his shoulder, never letting him forget it was there but it was worse at night. Everything was always worse at night. 

His mind was loud, it usually was but at night he couldn’t avoid it. Everything he’d been avoiding thinking about at school came back and hit him in the face. Thinking hurt. It was a different type of pain, unlike anything Peter had experienced before. A dull ache would overtake his brain whenever he tried to form a conscious thought. It didn’t seem like much at first but the more he thought, the worse it got. Sometimes he just clasped the sides of his head and screamed into his pillow, unable to think of anything else to do. It didn’t help but at least it gave him some semblance of control. 

His mind would churn through pictures, images of his life. All his stuff-ups, all his successes. Everything he could have done better. Sometimes he couldn’t help but feel like he was only a ghost of the person he could be, of the person everyone else thought he was. They all had such high expectations of him. How could Peter live up to them? No. He couldn’t. 

Sometimes his mind went down a different path, and it was those days that Peter climbed out his window and patrolled the entire night. Maybe he didn’t use to be this ghost. Maybe he only became like this because of Spiderman. He had lost so much and if he traced it back, it would all be because of Spiderman. If he stopped patrolling and simply ignored his powers like he originally planned to… 

When these thoughts crept through his mind, Peter would shake his head violently, as if to dislodge them and go patrol. A small voice at the back of his mind would whisper about how much of a shame it was that something that used to bring him so much joy was now a way for him to give penance, to make up for his sinful thoughts. 

Peter hated it but the voice was probably right. Patrolling used to be so freeing. It was his lifeline when his life and powers felt too much to handle. He was helping people and it was wonderful. Now all he could was wonder where that feeling went. When did he lose the joy that everyone said was so characteristic of him? Could he even be Peter without it?

Sometimes when the loneliness holds on tight and the thoughts get too loud, Peter opens his mouth and singing himself a soft lullaby in Italian. It was the language he grew up hearing as May and Ben conversed about something they didn’t want him to understand. He couldn’t speak it outside of a few songs, but it felt like home. Like safety. 

Then, when the song was over and his mouth was closed, Peter lay down, shut his eyes and let the loneliness in. Sometimes when all he felt was alone, the loneliness kept him company in its ever-tightening grip. It kept him company like a toxic friend would, holding him close and giving him physical comfort but as soon as he wanted something more, it would withdraw and abandon him. 

Occasionally, it got so bad that Peter forgot what the company of real people felt like. He would distance himself from Ned and MJ. It was then that he felt most like a pale shade of the person he used to be. He would wake up in the morning and dread leaving. He would convince himself that leaving the loneliness behind was just to face another loveless day. The pain would overtake him and Peter would let the loneliness stay and sink its claws into him further. 

Peter didn’t know if he would ever be able to make it let go. 

It was a parasite, leaching all the life from his body while giving nothing back. It was a numbness reaching through him, stealing all the thoughts from his body. Maybe that was why he kept letting it come back. The numb was better than the overwhelming pain the thoughts gave him. He would take the loneliness any day. 

Every night Peter could feel himself slipping away more and more. Sometimes he wondered if he would ever be able to come back if he kept retreating further and further into himself. He wasn’t sure but the scariest thing was that most of the time, he didn’t particularly care. 

Sometimes it was as though nothing was wrong. The world was vibrant with beautiful colours and Peter’s eyes would shine will wonder as they took in the world around them. He would go to school, laugh with his friends and then go to Stark Tower and tinker in the lab with Mr Stark. Sometimes the days were fantastic, and he wouldn’t want anything to change. 

But then a chill would appear, nipping at his toes, taking back any progress he had made reconnecting with his loved ones. He could feel it constantly. It was always there. With the cold came the numbness, enforcing its will onto Peter, making him feel nothing. It took over him, stripping him of feeling, emotion, life. 

In times when it got really bad, Peter would feel like a husk of himself. He could barely remember what he used to be like, the only echoes he would get stem from the expectations of the people around him. He didn’t know how to tell them that the person they knew was no longer there, that he had faded long ago. So he keeps pretending, keeps playing the part they all expect of him. 

It’s easy, easier than he thought it would be. It gives him hope that maybe after all there is something remaining of the person Peter used to be. He hoped so. 

As Peter turned over in bed and shut his eyes, he could only hope that tomorrow would be a good day. That he would be able to sleep and able to feel. If not, then he would pretend. Peter didn’t like it but sometimes it was necessary to protect both himself and his loved ones. But oh how he hated that they needed protection from the person he had become.

**Author's Note:**

> First work of NaNoWriMo! I hope everyone liked my version of depressed Peter (I may have been projecting a little ;)) Don't forget to drop a kudos and/or comment (especially a comment) and tell me what you thought, how I can improve etc. Also prompts. I love prompts. 
> 
> Stay safe everyone and VOTE if you haven't already!


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